


burnt toast on a sunday

by ironarana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, MCU?? don't know her, PeterMJ - Freeform, Spideychelle, college au kinda ish, domestic life, extremely extremely light angst, i live in the PMJCU, self indulgent fluff, that's the petermj cinematic universe lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironarana/pseuds/ironarana
Summary: And she thinks she finally understands the saying, “home is not a place, it’s a person.”Because when she thinks of home...she thinks of Peter.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Michelle Jones
Comments: 20
Kudos: 74





	burnt toast on a sunday

**Author's Note:**

> hi
> 
> it's been five months
> 
> i have nothing to say for myself
> 
> fic inspired by taylor swift's "you are in love"
> 
> enjoy!!

It’s lazy Sundays like these that make Michelle happy and grateful to be alive. 

It’s not something she would’ve wanted once, not so long ago. When she was younger and naive and believed love would was dead and that it would fail her time and time again like it had so many times before. When she wore an armor of cynicism and truth and wouldn’t have let it down for anyone. 

But now it’s different and just thinking about it brings a sleepy yet content smile to her face as she stretches her arms in bed, sunshine splashing across the tangled mess of covers and bringing warmth to her face. 

As she slowly blinks awake, the world around her swims into focus. White curtains flutter as a light breeze wafts through the screen window, fresh air filling the room. Her stomach flutters with unfamiliarity until she remembers where she is and who is here with her. She listens carefully for the sound of another presence and almost like he heard her listening for him, there comes the response of footsteps outside the bedroom door, the floorboards creaking dully. 

The door swings open on squeaking hinges and Michelle’s heart swells with something unidentifiable yet pleasant, the kind of feeling she can’t quite name and isn’t sure she wants too. Something pure and unadulterated and wholly unruined by all the bad in the world. 

Peter leans against the door frame, his brown hair mussed and tousled by sleep. His white tee shirt is wrinkled, grey sweatpants hanging off his hips. He smiles at her and runs a hand through his hair and Michelle rolls her eyes. He knows what he’s doing and all she can do is laugh. 

“You see something you like?” Peter teases, oh-so-innocently. 

Michelle raises an eyebrow. “Maybe.” 

Peter moves from the doorway around the edges of the bed and sits down on the left side. Most nights, it’s the right because it’s closest to the window and he can leave faster should Spider-Man be summoned in the middle of the night. But last night he let Spider-Man rest and she was grateful. She knows how long his nights are and how tiring it can be. So last night they just slept: his arms wrapped her and Michelle’s hands holding them in place. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asks, genuine this time. 

She always loved that about him and still does: how he wears his heart on his sleeve. She has to admit she was once jealous of that. How he had the courage to do that when she was so afraid she would be hurt for doing the same. 

But now it’s different. Because she doesn’t have to live with that constant fear everyday. 

And she knows Peter will handle her heart with care and will be the first to defend it rather than break it. 

Michelle shrugs. “I slept okay. I had this weird dream last night.” 

Peter breathes a laugh. “Yeah, me too.” 

“Oh yeah?” Michelle asks, shifting across the mattress so she can be closer to him. “What was yours?” 

Peter’s shoulders rise and fall. “That that alien conspiracy video you made me watch about the pyramids was true.” 

Suddenly, her face scrunches together and she finds the nearest pillow and hits him in the back with it. “Shut up. Nerd.” 

Peter’s laugh fills the room in response, his face alight with it, brown eyes twinkling. Michelle’s chest feels like a balloon about to burst and explode into confetti. The air sobers after a moment, long enough for him to ask, “What was your dream?” 

It takes her a second to search the recesses of her memory but she finds it. Faded like those old Polaroids she has in a shoebox beneath her bed. The ocean stretching out before them, Michelle’s feet buried in the warm, golden sand, water lapping against her ankles. 

Peter sitting beside her, his strong calloused hand in her small one. Her head on his shoulder, sunlight falling over both of them. She remembers the dream in snapshots but the feelings in crystal clarity. Safety, warmth. Home. 

She blinks and she’s back here, in his apartment, on a lazy Sunday morning. He’s sitting in front of her expectantly, his mouth beginning to downturn in worry, brows drawing together. He knows how rough she’s had it, how her parents divorce changed her. He’s always been considerate but it strikes her between the ribs how much he’s tried to make sure he loves her in the way she needs, in the way she’s always wanted. 

And before she’s even aware, she’s reaching out a hand and cupping the side of his face, her fingers stroking through curls at the base of his neck. 

_"What was your dream?"_ echoes through her head and finally, she answers softly, “That I was happy.” 

And just like that, like she performed a magic trick, the concern etched into Peter’s features vanishes into thin air, disappearing right before her very eyes. What’s left behind is a mixture of relief and contentment and then he is leaning forward and so is she, the distance between them closing. 

Her stomach fills with butterflies, her heart racing in anticipation. 

And then he’s kissing her and it’s like nothing else exists. The whole world falls away, her memory failing her. All that matters is him, all that matters is now. His gentle lips against hers, the taste of his vanilla chapstick and her honey one. It’s sweet but he is sweeter and she feels weak and strong all at once. They fit perfectly against each other and she finds herself thanking her lucky stars that the universe, in all it’s cruelty and twists of fate, was kind enough to gift her Peter Parker. The best thing. The one thing she did right. 

When he moves away, he rests her forehead against hers, a light breath escaping his lips. Michelle closes her eyes and just breathes. He must’ve showered this morning. She can smell that lavender body wash he always uses because Spider-Man may be tough as nails but Peter, he’s as soft as they come. 

She tries to drink in this moment with him. After all, she nevers knows how long it’ll last. If he’ll have to swing off and save the day. If he’ll ever come back. So she cherishes when the world is silent as long as she can. 

It’s about five seconds later that Peter tenses beneath her and immediately, Michelle’s mind launches into worst case scenarios. She did something wrong or she overstepped a boundary and now, he’s scared. 

But all that happens is his eyes widen as he exclaims, “I left the toaster on too long!” and then he’s bounding out of the room, leaving her to fall into a fit of laughter, her stomach aching with it. 

Once she’s recovered, she throws the covers back and slips out of bed, her feet hitting the floorboards as she rounds the bed and heads into the living room. Her lungs constrict as she inhales a whiff of smoke, a cough wrenching itself free from her chest. 

In the kitchen, Peter is fanning away smoke with a dishrag, the other hand flinging burnt toast into the garbage can. Michelle’s eyes water. 

“You need a new toaster!” she calls out across the expanse. 

Peter doesn’t answer her, instead cranking open the tiny window over the sink in hopes of airing out the apartment. While he does this, she moves around the couch and to the kitchen peninsula, looks down into the garbage can to see the blackened toast sitting in the garbage can. When she hears him cough, she looks to see him staring at her and Michelle shrugs. 

“We can just make more toast,” she says, indifferent because it’s really not a big deal and if she makes it one, she knows he’ll hold this failure of a breakfast against himself. 

Peter nods, his jaw clenched and she knows he’s already falling too deep into himself. Because while Spider-Man can save himself, Peter Parker still needs saving sometimes. 

It’s her responsibility. And one she handles with pride. 

“Come on, I’ll grab the bread, you make the coffee,” she says and begins rifling through the cabinets until she locates the loaf of bread sitting beside a stale box of crackers. 

Behind her, she hears him turn on the coffee machine, which rumbles to life, gears grinding. It’s one of those fancy ones Tony has at his cabin and he gave one to Peter as a housewarming gift. 

Technically, the apartment is half his as long as Peter maintains all A’s while in college and pays the other half of the rent. It’s a good deal overall. One bedroom, one bathroom. A kitchen and a living room. Doesn’t mean there aren’t problems but it’s a step above what most college students living off campus can afford. 

It also means Michelle can come and go whenever she wants. But more often than not, she finds herself here, with him, rather than in her cold, lonely dorm on campus. 

Michelle sets the toast in and turns the heat down lower, knowing this toaster sticks so if she doesn’t want to burn the toast, she’ll have to manually turn it off. She leans her hip against the counter and watches it like a hawk. Out of the corner of her eye, Peter takes mugs out of the cabinet above the coffee machine. 

She waits a minute or two and then hits the off button on the toaster. What comes out is two golden slices of toast. Pleased with herself, she removes each one with two fingers and sets them down on a cutting board. They’re still hot and she blows on her fingers when she drops. 

Peter whirls around, a Spider-Man mug in his hands. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, they were just really, really hot, that’s all,” Michelle replies. She sighs. “I’m gonna grab the peanut butter. And creamer for the coffee.” 

“I have that hazelnut one you like,” Peter says. “It’s in the side door of the fridge.” 

“Thanks,” she says over her shoulder and opens the fridge, which rattles with condiments and jars. 

She finds the creamer and hands it to him, knowing he’ll fix her coffee the way she likes it. She takes the peanut butter to the cutting board and spreads a thick layer over each slice of toast before setting them on clean, white plates from the right side of the sink. Those, she knows, were May’s housewarming gift. Because, “They’re practical and besides, I know Peter would never buy plates for himself.” 

“Yeah, he’d either eat with none or just off of paper towels the rest of his life,” Michelle said and May laughed and then they’d turned back to watch Peter open the rest of his housewarming gifts. 

She brings the plates over to the little window seat. It’s a small table with two chairs, just enough room for both of them. Peter sets down the Spider-Man mug in front of her, sunshine illuminating the steam that rises into the air. He brings his own coffee to his mouth, the white mug reading in black font, “Ask me about my feminist agenda.” 

“Thanks,” Michelle says and sips her own. It’s not too bitter, not too sweet. Just right.  
Peter nods and sits down into his own chair, heaves a sigh. She can tell something is on his mind. There’s a crease between his brows which means he’s concentrating, the corner of his lip sucked in between his teeth. 

“What?” she asks and leans forward, her heart clenching with worry. 

Peter’s clenched jaw relaxes but his shoulders are still tense. He works his mouth uselessly until finally, something comes out. “Sorry about the toast this morning.” 

“It’s okay, we established that,” Michelle replies. “And besides, we made more and it turned out fine so it’s no big deal.” 

“Yeah but...I don’t know I just feel like I want to do stuff right, you know? For you.” 

Frankly, she doesn’t know how to answer that. She’s gotten better at handling how to respond to other’s emotional needs but that doesn’t mean she’s perfect at it. She still stumbles and she doesn’t always say or do the right things. But for him, she tries. Truly, she does. 

“You don’t have to do everything right, Peter,” Michelle says softly. It feels like the right thing to say. “What you do already is enough for me.” 

But he still looks unconvinced so she stretches her arm over the table, her fingers trailing over the back of his hand which is firmly grasping the handle of his mug. His fingers release it and intertwine with hers, their hands tangling together perfectly. 

“And you’re enough for me,” she adds. 

And, like dawn breaking, Peter smiles, his hand squeezing hers. 

It’s after this that they begin to eat their breakfast and sip their coffee and soon enough, they’ve fallen into casual conversation like they’re teenagers again, sitting at their usual lunch table back in Midtown. 

Eventually, she says, “You know, I’ve been spending lots of time here.” 

Peter shakes his head, locks of hair shifting over his forehead. “No, I hadn’t noticed.” 

Michelle rolls her eyes. “And I was thinking maybe it’d make more sense for me to just...stay. Here. With you.” 

His gaze locks with hers and Michelle holds her breath in anticipation. Peter’s mouth quirks. 

“Are you asking to move in with me?” 

Now normally, she would fit in a snarky response right here because while he can be so smart, he can also be so oblivious to what is happening right in front of him. But she’s nervous enough asking about this as it is.  
He’s welcomed her into his home and his heart so many times already but letting someone stay is different than letting someone visit. And she wants to be someone who stays. 

She breathes out shakily, desperately wishing the anxiety wasn’t so noticeable. “Yeah,” she finally manages, her throat thick with emotion, with wanting. “I am.” 

Peter’s lips tilt into a smile and he rises from his seat. In front of her, he reaches out a hand and she takes it, lets him pull her out of her chair until they’re both standing. He brushes loose curls away from her face, brushes them behind her ear. 

“Would it make you feel better if I asked you to move in with me?” he asks. 

She nods. “Yeah, totally, one hundred percent.” 

He laughs heartily, his chin dipping down to his chest before he looks at her again, his illustrious brown eyes twinkling. 

“MJ, would you do me the honor of moving in with me?” he says. 

And in a brilliant, totally not awkward move, all she can say is, “Boh.” 

But Peter takes it in stride, the way he takes her in stride. In the way he always has and in the way she hopes he always will. 

Her heart feels too big for her chest. She feels like a child on Christmas Eve who can’t contain herself any longer and she shouts with joy and throws herself into his arms, knowing he’ll catch her. 

And she realizes, slowly, that home is not here, in this apartment. 

Home is his arms wrapped around hers, and her fingers underneath his shirt, softly trailing over his back. It’s the smell of his laundry detergent and the sound of his heart beating through his shirt. 

And she thinks she finally understands the saying, “home is not a place, it’s a person.” 

Because when she thinks of home...she thinks of Peter.

**Author's Note:**

> for someone who hasn't written anything since like january i think i did okay with this one?? it's surprisingly simple and nothing but self indulgent fluff but hopefully, it had some emotional depth to it 
> 
> obviously, it's not an irondad fic. i haven't had a lot of irondad inspiration lately but as for petermj...oh boy. mayhaps i will just write 8 million fics about them cause once i get going, there ain't not stoppin. 
> 
> anyways i hope you liked this!! be sure to leave a kudos/comment if you did. i've seriously missed ao3 so much and i can't wait to start posting on here again
> 
> also[ i have a tumblr now ](ironarana.tumblr.com)so feel free to follow me there if you'd like!!


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